Ice Cream
by coldpassion
Summary: Syrenne and Lowell and ice cream. FLUFF! Also a ONESHOT!


"I remember," Syrenne drawled, turning her gaze to where her and Lowell's fingers interlocked. Her palms were sweaty, and she reddened every time they passed strangers, as if they were all aware of her new relationship. As if they frowned, disturbed that someone like Lowell would spend time with the likes of her, let alone take her out for ice cream.

The streets of Lazulis were busier than usual, as the end of the war against the Gurak had welcomed new merchants and vendors, human or otherwise, and today was market day. Despite the chill of the evening, it seemed to Syrenne that everyone in Lazulis had decided to gather in this one street, each person another body closer to her, like walls made of people. Loud, tall, unpredictable obstacle-wall people, and the crowd seemed to be slowly closing in on her.

And then there was Lowell, and despite how close he was to her as they pushed their way through the bustle, he never seemed to overwhelm her. The crowd seemed to have nothing on Lowell. In his case, the more the merrier! He had a height advantage, and his shaggy blond hair peeked out above the sea of people. Syrenne followed it like a beacon.

Still, Lowell's hand held hers, and she tried not to notice how gentle he was. Strange for a playboy, but welcome nonetheless. He didn't seem to mind her clammy hand. She wondered if he was as aware are she was, or if her hands were rough, or if he-

"Are you feeling okay?"

Lowell. Ah, shit, did he notice? Syrenne prepared for conversation, and tried to smile reassuringly but ended up only making a terribly worried face. Lowell grinned and squinted at her, imitating her expression. This was already not going well. No! No! It's okay, you can fix this. Be sweet, Syrenne.

However, sweet was not her forte.

"I'm just... Fine." She managed. Her voice came out unintentionally venomous, perhaps out of habit. "I was only thinkin',"

"About what, love?" Lowell cooed.

Syrenne sighed. "It's... There are too many people here. I don't do well with crowds."

Suddenly, Lowell tugged her hand and faced her. He tilted his head and his eyes flicked over to an alleyway ahead.

"Let's get out of here then," he said. "I know a shortcut, anyway."

The narrow-yet empty-alley was like a breath of fresh air. They hurried through and Lowell led the way past a bakery and a couple of village houses. The people here were definitely fewer, and Syrenne's heart slowed down. In the open, the two slowed to a comfortable walk. Lowell let go of her hand and instead draped his arm over her shoulder, pulling her even closer.

Syrenne did not expect this, and flinched hard, before apologizing. Twice.

"Is it just me, or is somebody nervous?" Lowell teased.

"Right. Like I'd be nervous for a stupid date." Syrenne grumbled.

"This isn't just a date. It's our first date." Lowell said. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Syrenne shrugged. Lowell smirked and leaned in closer. They stopped walking for a moment, just long enough for Lowell to whisper, "I'm nervous too, love."

And Syrenne made eye contact, willingly, for the first time since he'd asked her out for ice cream. The setting sun turned his chocolate eyes to toffee and Syrenne swore when he blinked his long eyelashes brushed his eyebrows. Stupid pretty Lowell. Silently she cursed him for his looks, but swiftly cursed herself for looking.

Syrenne crossed her arms in a challenge.

"What would you have to be nervous about? You take women out all the time,"

To that, Lowell blushed. Blushed! He shifted on his feet.

"I take women to bed, usually, which is not the same as going for ice cream and a stroll."

Syrenne said nothing to this. She felt like if she did, it'd be a little too brash.

"This is new for me, too. Not my first real date, but it's been a while, you know?" He said.

Hmm. A real date. Not like she'd ever admit it, but she liked the sound of that. She had also wondered if this was a joke. It wasn't, apparently, and for that she was glad. Lowell taking her out instead of to bed meant something, something promising. She rolled her shoulders back, suddenly confident.

"If this is a real date," she started. "Then-"

"Ah! There it is!" Lowell cried, and pointed towards a cute, little pink building. He laughed, tugging her with him as he sped into a run. The ice cream place, no doubt. Syrenne had only ever had ice cream once before, and it was never from a place this fancy. She'd made it with her dad, with salt and cream and vanilla.

Inside the shop, a fat woman behind a counter hurried about with a scoop in each hand. A quaint little line of customers stood in front, either gazing at the ice cream available or the cones already in hand, enjoying theirs. The awkward couple joined the line; It was cold in the shop. Syrenne shivered. Lowell noticed. Syrenne made an effort to look as though she wasn't cold. Lowell muffled a snicker.

When it was their turn, Lowell ordered his right away.

Cookie dough? What a weird flavour.

Syrenne squinted at the sign. The longer she looked, the less it made sense. The words seemed to float off the paper, letters and numbers jumbling and twisting until they no longer resembled words. If anyone knew she had issues reading she would either kill them, or die herself, of embarrassment. She could write just fine, but when reading she almost had to cross her eyes to keep the E's from changing to B's. She felt a flush creep into her cheeks. Could anyone notice she couldn't read properly? Hell, how long had she been standing there, staring blankly at the flavours?! Oh lord, please, oh please tell me no one noticed!

"Cookie dough for me too," she blurted. "-please."

Cookie dough didn't smell that bad, honestly. Sweet vanilla greeted her nose, and even through the cone the ice cream felt nice and cool in her hand.

I wonder how it tastes...

Syrenne shoved her free hand into her short pocket in search of change, but before she could take any out, Lowell left a handful on the counter, and told the fat ice cream lady to keep the rest.

Outside, the sun had only minutes before it disappeared for the rest of the night. The two left the shop and Syrenne was miffed to find that the air out here was even colder than that of the ice cream parlour. Cold ice cream on a colder night didn't seem like such a good idea anymore. Though she physically refused to shiver, Lowell noticed and casually removed his scarf to drape it across her bare shoulders.

"What a gentleman you're bein'." She laughed.

"I do try my best," Lowell replied. He led her to a stone bench where they both sat, side by side.

"So, earlier, what was it you were trying to say?" Lowell inquired.

"What? What do you mean?" Syrenne asked.

Lowell cleared his throat. "Well, before we got ice cream, you began to say something about this being a real date."

Oh. Right. That. She had forgotten.

"It was really nothin' important, in fact, I can't even remember what it was," she lied, looking over to Lowell only to realize how close they were in this moment. If she leaned forward too much she could quite literally kiss him. Was he aware?

"Can I..." Lowell began. "You just, I'm- ah, no, forget it."

"Can you what? Can you kiss me?" Oh. Oh no. She had said it, there was no taking it back now. Oh shit.

"Actually, yes." Lowell grinned.

The next few minutes felt like hours to Syrenne, like she had drifted off into some beautiful dream and she apologized at the beginning because when he first put his lips against hers she was smiling too much to kiss him back, and Lowell laughed and put his free hand underneath her chin, and he-oh wow-he tilted her face up to his so they could try another kiss, and Syrenne dropped her ice cream but she didn't mind because this was happening- and he moved to her ear, breathing sweetly on her skin.

"Your ice cream..." Lowell whispered. "...is very cold against my foot,"

She couldn't help it, Syrenne felt herself being thrown into a fit of giggles. Giggles that turned to full-hearted laughter, joined by Lowell, who kicked the ice cream off his foot and whose face turned red from the force of their laughter.

The laughter eventually died down, after being revived a couple times by the mere act of the two looking at each other. Comfortable at last with this "real date", Syrenne felt her usual confidence return.

"Want to try again?" She offered.

This time, when she leaned in to kiss him, not even spilled ice cream could interrupt the ecstasy of his soft lips on hers, the sweet taste of Lowell and vanilla cookie dough, and the way he clenched her hand in his with the same fiery need she gripped him back. She would not need to get drunk tonight; she was high enough already.

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